


Crimsoned

by unwindmyself



Category: True Blood
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Gen, Vampire Family, baby vamp adventures, never getting over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five of the former Lady Gainesborough's first nights as a new-made vampire and one of the first days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. awakened

It seems she’s been asleep for so long, days and weeks.  She wonders perhaps if she’s passed on altogether, if whatever lies beyond is not the clouds and cherubs of paintings but is instead little more than darkness, and just when it seems sure –

“Lady Gainesborough.”

She recognizes the voice, and it doesn’t belong to a God she never fully believed in.  Her eyes fly open and her first instinct is to scream – that seems the right thing to do – but she sees the two men before her, the impossibly tall blond and the dark-haired one who looks more like someone’s little brother than their father – and everything from however long before, maybe just last night, comes rushing back. Suddenly she’s calm as can be.

“Please, call me Eleanor,” she says as she sits up.  “No – Nora.”

The men exchange smiles like they had been expecting this.  “Nora,” the smaller of them repeats.  She couldn’t place his accent before and she can’t place it now.  “I am –”

“Godric,” she supplies.  He must have said it before, because it’s on the tip of her tongue, and at the same time she feels as if she’s known it forever.  She flashes a smile, perhaps the widest she has in days, at the other man.  “And Eric.  I remember.”

So Eric smiles too and holds a hand out to her; she’s rather mortified to realize that she’s sitting in what seems to be a pile of dirt, her dressing gown mussed and muddied, so she accepts gratefully.

“I imagine,” he says as he pulls her to her feet, all courtesy to match hers, “You’ll feel much better once you’ve had a chance to clean yourself up.”

She’s taken notice of the blood dried on her clothes and skin, though, and Godric recognizes the wild and curious look in her eyes.  All at once, he steps toward her and takes her other hand, his fangs drop, and she just keeps on grinning.  Everything feels right.

“You’ll feel better,” Godric assures, all wicked promise, “Once you’ve fed.”


	2. cosseted

“He’s spoiling you,” Eric whispers in her ear, dropping down beside her as she feeds.  “Don’t get accustomed.”

Nora for her part just turns to grin at him cheekily, eyes bright and mouth stained with blood.  “Jealous?” she coos.  She’s never had a sibling to play at rivalries with until now, but it’s been easy enough of a habit to slide into.

“No,” he says, somehow both disdainful and affectionate.  “But you’ll need to learn how to hunt for yourself, _älskling –_ ”

“What does that mean?” she interrupts, letting the body in her arms fall to the ground unceremoniously and wrinkling her nose.  Since her turning, she is younger and older and just the same all at once.

“It means you are beloved,” he says, nudging the corpse aside and scooting closer to her still, “And that we will need to teach you Swedish as well as hunting.”

She shrugs, reaching for his hand.  “I learn quickly,” she promises.

“I know,” he tells her, and though she isn’t sure quite how he would, she believes him.  He brushes some of the blood away from her lips, gives a feral smile before sucking it off of his thumb.  “And if you think this is a rush, just wait until you make the kill yourself.”

Nora shivers, not from cold – that doesn’t bother her anymore – but from anticipation.  “Tell me more,” she whispers.  Their bodies fall together without her really noticing, his arms around her waist and her head against his chest.

“It’s power,” he says.  “Having it, using it, feeling it.”  He combs fingers through her hair, looking into her wide blue eyes.  “You’ll be very good at it.”

“How do you know?” she asks.

“We just do,” Godric says from the doorway (she doesn’t know how long he’s been there).  “Some wear it naturally, and you are one of them.”

To that, she smiles, albeit sleepily.  Her body knows the sun is about to rise, even if there’s no logical way to so hidden from it as they are.  “Thank you, Father,” she murmurs.

The men exchange nods, and Eric gathers Nora up in his arms; Godric steps closer and traces his fingers over her still-red lips.  “Now,” he tells her gently, “To bed with you.”


	3. sated

“Yes,” Godric whispers in her ear, “You’ve got him.”

Somehow when they had spoken to her of hunting, Nora had imagined finding lonely souls wandering the forest, springing on them like the men at court bragged of doing to a hapless deer, but – no.

“Approach him and engage him,” Eric suggests.

That won’t be hard to do.  She hasn’t asked where the gowns came from – some common, some fine as anything she’s ever seen, all fitting her perfectly – but she’s taken full advantage, tonight choosing one that shows her off splendidly and bossily commanding Eric to help lace her into it.  So attired, she’s caught plenty of eyes, and that’s a way to hunt, too.

“Glamour him and draw him away from the crowd,” Godric instructs.

She does, simple as that.  She’s almost cocky enough to try to do it without the glamour, that's come to her easy and it’s not hard to get the man to follow, but then it  _is_ good practice, and it’s what she was told, and she returns with her prize, unable to stop smiling proudly.

“You know the rest,” Eric murmurs.

The rest: biting, feeding, killing.  Yes, she understands it, she’s done this much already, with the gifts she's been given in nights past, and she drives her fangs into the man’s throat, hurrying to suck down all of the blood that spills forth.

“ _Min goda_ _flicka_ _,_ _söt_ _dotter_ ,” Godric says.

“ _Ta din_ _tid_ _,_ _syster_ ,” Eric chuckles, stroking her hair.

She doesn’t, though, she rushes to lap up every last drop she can get before tossing the corpse aside.  “That’s all there is to it?” she exclaims, giggling.  “I’m still hungry.  May I do it again?”

“As many times as you want,” Godric promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _min goda flicka, söt dotter_ ; "my good girl, sweet daughter"  
>  _ta din tid, syster_ ; "take your time, sister"


	4. reassured

Nora has seen the way that Godric and Eric sometimes look at each other.  She is not used to seeing such looks between men, at least so openly, but they do not faze her.

Furthermore, she has seen – when they suppose she’s asleep – the way they sometimes kiss.  The rules are different here, the endearments they all bestow on each other don’t really count the same way, and why _wouldn’t_ you give kisses to someone who had saved your life?  Like in a poem.

She knows how these things work.

Eric goes to hunt soon after waking, and Nora joins Godric before she’s even fully dressed.  “ _God afton,_ ” she greets, smiling wide.

He nods his approval, reaching to squeeze her hand affectionately – it is important, they have learned, to offer her little shows of praise, not because she needs them but because they make her feel that much more comfortable – and before she can think better of it, she moves in to press her lips to his, almost searching for something.

Her eyes are squeezed shut, so she does not see his alarmed expression; he does not jerk away, but when the kiss ends, he cups her cheek, keeping her held at just a slight distance from his own face.  “ _Min kära_, you do not have to do that,” he says firmly.  He knows the differences between kisses of desire and kisses of duty, and this was the latter.  

“I – I haven’t been able to thank you,” she whispers.  “I only thought – that’s what’s expected, isn’t it?”

She’s not really talking about what he expects, of course – she hasn’t made a habit of discussing the protocols and habits of the court that Eric and Godric took her from, but what little the men _do_ know informs Godric about her motivation.

As such, he pulls her into an embrace, one that’s more comfort and silent understanding than anything.  “No, darling girl,” he tells her.  “I do not expect anything of the sort.”  He starts to rub her back, tender in a way that is still so foreign to her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs after a moment, feeling impossibly stupid.

“There is no need to be,” he says.  “If we should go down that path, it will be of mutual desire –”

“Like you and Eric share sometimes,” she interrupts.

He nods just once.  “Sometimes.  Like we both have shared and do share with others, like you are welcome to share with whoever you choose.  And even if that night should never come for us, know that it does not change how precious you are to me.”

They’d promised so much to her, but she realizes now that she had just been waiting for a catch – good things don’t often come without them, she knows – and she is pleased to realize that this may just be the exception to that rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _god afton_ ; "good evening"  
>  _min kära_ ; "my dear"


	5. promised

They are so content tonight – feeding on hapless human after hapless human, it’s easy for her to forget she was so recently one herself.  All of the concerns of that life are gone, she can’t be touched by any more sickness and so long as they’re sequestered by dawn they’re plenty safe and when she wants things they just sort of _appear_ , and it’s so simple and lovely and right.

Her mouth and hands are smeared with the blood of who knows how many, she’s lost count, she’s lost track of where Godric has got to, she knows he must be around somewhere but she’s too caught up in – in _everything._

“I’m surprised you’re not full yet,” Eric murmurs, wrapping his arms around her from behind to lift and twirl her.

This, of course, just makes her laugh loudly.  “I’m not,” she sings out.  “Surprised or full either.”

“No,” he agrees, chuckling against her skin.  “I can see that.”

“Stop spinning,” she orders suddenly, batting at his arm like a kitten might a piece of string until he complies.

“You’re very bossy, you know,” he tells her.

“Does that bother you?” she retorts, meeting his gaze defiantly.

“Should it?” he asks.

He sees just a hint of a shadow (of doubt, perhaps) cross her face, and it means he’s already gently stroking her cheek when she replies, “It’s done before.”

“Never again,” he says adamantly (of course, they both know at least a little that that’s not _strictly_ true, that he’ll tease her about it and pretend to be put out, but they also both know what he means when he makes this vow).

“Good,” she nods, blinking once and then twice at him before tilting her head to kiss him.

This is no kiss of duty.  This is a kiss of pure, genuine desire, of lust and hunger and contentment all at once.  She knows, they both know, that this has always been a possibility but it has never been a necessity, that it’s allowed and even welcomed, and it doesn’t mean the same thing that it does to humans, quite, all it means right now is that Nora is wild with trust and passion both, and that Eric understands and can – no, will – match it.  Wants to match it.

“ _Prinsessa_ ,” he whispers, drawing his tongue over her distended fangs and smirking.

“I’m no maid,” she says in some almost-defensive sort of explanation, though she knows it’s unnecessary, that he knows full well.  “And I know what I want.”

“It’s yours,” he promises.


	6. fulfilled

“Mm,” Nora murmurs, nuzzling closer against Eric.  She’s shared his resting place every night she’s not been curled up in Godric’s, but it’s predictably different now that they’re different.

“ _Du_ _borde sova_ ,” he whispers – the day is upon them, if barely, and she’s still a baby – but that it’s in Swedish means two things, one of which is that it takes her a moment to figure out what it means.

The other of which is, “You should too.”

“Shush,” he chides, but lazily.  “I wanted to –”

“What?” she interrupts, almost petulant.  “Make sure I was okay?  Of course I’m okay, I’m wonderful.”

“I know,” he says.  “I believe you.”

“Good,” she exclaims, and she sounds so young when she adds, “It’s – it’s important.  Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything,” she declares, her voice slurring just slightly.  “You and Godric, you’ve given me _everything_ , beyond dreaming.”

To make up for the way her hold on him is loosening more with each second she tries to force herself to stay awake, he holds her just that much tighter.  “Not everything yet,” he says.  “But we will.”

“I think I must have forgotten what being truly happy feels like before,” she continues.

“You’re being nostalgic in the afterward,” he tells her, but unlike usual when he can’t abide it (true even in his human life, hundreds of years ago) he finds it rather sweet.

“No m’not,” she murmurs.  “Just honest, m’all right being that with you.”

“You need to sleep,” he repeats, careful to give the suggestion in English this time so she listens, and he leans to kiss her fluttering eyelids.

“Needed to say it first,” she insists, though she’s only halfway coherent.  “I’m…”

“What?” he asks softly, seeing how she’s drifting.

“Glad,” Nora says emphatically, though it’s really more of a sound than a word.

“Good,” Eric says.  “Now let yourself sleep, _älskling_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _du borde sova_ ; "you should be sleeping"


End file.
